Paramour
by PrettySiren
Summary: Lexana drabble, almost canon. Revolves around a scene involving coffee. Enjoy. Rating changed to T for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

"Paramour"

Disclaimer: Fanfiction...so...yeah.

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Drawn to the flame that was her, he allowed her beauty to enthrall him, as he always did whenever he saw her. She was sitting, drinking a cappuccino in the Talon, as she regularly did. She smiled when she saw him, her eyes shining in rapture as she took in his form.

"Sit by me," she said.

He took a seat across from her. The waitress came to take his order, which was soon brought back to him. He was hardly aware of his latté.

His mind took him back to their erstwhile nights of sitting by the fire in his study, going over the books of the place which they were now sitting in. Those days of yore were gone now, though there was a faint glint of promise that they could be rekindled. He hoped so every time she was near.

Their relationship had been tempestuous lately, though both knew it was only so due to outside influence and interference. When things were pure, as they always were when they were together, their dealings were anything but tempestuous, being the dealings of two wise old souls that had connected a long time ago.

She was with his former best friend now. Anything he could say to her, regarding what he wanted to actually say, would be rocking the already disintegrating relationship he had with said former best friend. Lingering loyalties proved to be binding.

She caught him sighing. She didn't know why he did that. "Is there something wrong?" she asked, concerned, for it seemed as though he was tortured then.

Though he was breathing, he felt as though he were dying. Every second of every day he couldn't tell her what he wanted to tell her was torture for him. He sometimes wished he were a worse person, wished he could tell her; he wished he could disregard his former best friend's feelings the way his former best friend did his on a regular basis.

Nothing could captivate him more than her.

"Nothing is wrong," he replied. When he was with her, she was like novocaine, numbing the worries and ill thoughts which plagued him daily.

He could write a memoir of each encounter he had with her, detailing the experience, etching it on paper with pen. When he was with her, every conversation seemed like a movie, well played out, thought-provoking, and dramatic.

The passion behind his feelings was not lost upon her, though it did not do her good to dwell on his feelings, for he truly felt them with every fiber of his being. Deep down, she was completely aware of that. She knew they ran courses deeper than time or space could convey, deeper than anything imaginable. It touched her profoundly.

His feelings for her were undying. He would go to the ends of the earth to protect her; he could never leave her in want for anything. His showing of affection would not be so material if she were in a position to reciprocate those feelings openly. The material manifestations of her endearment to him were limiting and he longed for the day when it was his time to be her's, when he could express his passion in ways he could never do now.

The spark in her eyes always seemed so alive. It was the first thing he had ever noticed about her. She was alive on the inside and nothing could ever change that. It was part of why she was more dear to him than he could ever express with mere words. Her vibrant spirit shown through even in the dark times, even in times were she felt hope was as bleak as space–deep and black, with an absence of light.

She was his eternal beloved, his dearest one. He longed for the day when he could call her, "mi amore" aloud.

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Author's Note: I adore feedback, so let me know what y'all think!


	2. Chapter 2: Entrance

Chapter 2: Entrance

Disclaimer: This is fanfiction, so going into too much detail here is redundant, isn't it?

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The faint rustling of the trees surrounding the mansion played a gentle melody, pleasing his ears as he went about his work. He paused, taking in a deep breath, allowing himself to enjoy a small, simple moment of his life, the sort of moment that was few and far between. In his ever present search for the meaning of everything moments like this one were rare.

In an ideal world, things would be much more simple, but as it were, they were not and he was forced to be cut-throat and ruthless in business every day. It was the sort of life that made one cold, though he was anything but.

He longed for the touch of the one who wasn't his. He longed for her sweet voice. He would cling to any moment he had with her, trying to stretch it out over eternity. While he failed at doing so in reality, the memories of each encounter were always within him.

His longing for her never waned, it only intensified. With each passing day, it grew and it grew and it grew, engulfing his every spare moment.

The brilliance of her face was unrivaled by that of the sun; the light radiating from her as gentle as the moon. Never was there a creature more fair upon the earth than her, never did one enthrall him so.

He walked to the window and looked up at the blue sky. It was crisp and clear, not a cloud in sight. The sky was taunting him.

If everything he ever did was reflected upon, it would vindicate his claims of loyalty. Everything he did was so discreet, he wasn't even sure she knew how he felt. Saying it, saying the words out loud...he wasn't sure how that would turn out. So, in cowardice, he kept quiet, though, in every other respect, he was not a coward–that was to be sure.

He was now at peace with how he felt about her. There was a point in time when he would've felt as though he were betraying a person close to him. That day is forever gone now.

He walked back over to his desk, set down, and looked at his paper with the intent of reading it, of working, but now that she had crossed his mind, it was hard to concentrate.

He was parched, thirsty for her presence. It had been days since he'd seen her, days without being near her. Those few days without her were already too many and he didn't wish for them to accumulate more.

An argument with her was like hell for him. He never initiated the argument, though he recognized he brought it on at times. When she was mad at him, he felt as though the world was falling apart. Same for when she was distrustful of him, which she had become more so in the past three-hundred and sixty-five days alone.

It was hell.

His feelings for her were manifesting themselves daily and he couldn't help but think she was subconsciously ignoring them. He was convinced of the fact and it brought him great pain–a proverbial sword through his heart.

There was a rapping on the door. Without waiting for a reply, the intruder of his reverie entered. It was _her_.

"Hello, Lex," she said.


	3. Chapter 3: Guilt

Chapter 3: Guilt

Disclaimer: Don't own Smallville, so, um...yeah...

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_There she was, standing there. He didn't know why, but she was indeed there. _

"_Lana," he said. "What are you doing there?"_

_He could feel himself walking right into the cycle. He would ask a question, he would prod her, she would retaliate. Both would be hurt._

"_I came to ask you a favor," she said quietly. She was beautiful._

_Maybe the cycle was, indeed, broken. _

_It went without saying that he was devoted to her, anything she wanted, all she had to do was ask. She knew that and he knew that he was hopeless. There was no hope for him; he was in too deep._

_Moving closer to him, she almost whispered. "I need you to look into something."_

_She dug into her purse and pulled out a folder handing it to him. He looked inside of it. "Lana, I don't understand."_

"_You don't have to," was her soft reply._

That was when he awoke with a start. He looked around his room wildly. It was a dream. Sitting up, he rubbed his tired eyes. It was early, earlier than he usually went to sleep, but the events of the night compelled him to sleep, sleep rather than be awake, thinking about them, as thinking didn't always do him much good.

He couldn't stop thinking about them.

"Hello, Lex," was how she had greeted him, but from there, from there it went to a place he never imagined it would go. He was confused and bewildered and it was over almost as soon as it had begun.

He laid back down, determined not to let what happened consume his entire night, though he knew perfectly well that that would be in vain; yet there he lie in bed, awake, trying his hardest to be asleep.

Lying down in bed, she pulled up the covers close to her neck, shivering from the cold air which surrounded her. Sighing, she attempted to get some shut-eye, but she couldn't. Thoughts of the night's earlier events clouded her mind, troubling her conscience.

They held her in thrall.

Ethics had been debated since time began and all of those debates were of no consequence now. Now, right and wrong were muddled and mixed and certain actions couldn't be undone.

She wasn't sure if she wanted them to be.

Memories of simpler times, of nights by the fire now came to mind. If she could, she would wish them back and uncomplicate things.

If only that were possible, but as it were, it wasn't, and so she must resolve to live with the consequences her actions have condemned her to–whatever they may be.

Why she had gone to see him, she wasn't even sure. Why was it that even though her trust in him had evaporated he was gaining it back? It was very simple: the more he was around her, the more he proved to her he deserved a second chance.

She was drawn to him.

Ever since she'd known him, he had always been there for her, always advised her and always had her best interest at heart. That was why she was able to turn to him so easy. Though, why had she done it? Why?

That was simple as well: she needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand. It went without saying that he understood her completely.

She turned over in her bed, pulling up the covers even closer to her. A long solitary drive back to her dorm room hadn't even been enough to ease her mind, to clear her thoughts. It seemed that the more she questioned everything the more answers and questions there were to be had, thus proving her suspicion that thinking wasn't always good.

She turned over yet again and this time, she was drifting off into the land of sleep where things were a lot less complicated. At least in her dreams everything made sense.

Guilt can tear at your soul.


	4. Chapter 4: Resolve

Chapter 4: Resolve

Disclaimer: (insert standard disclaimer stuff here)

Guilt was tugging at her heart, her conscience was wearing her down. She reasoned it out that no matter what she had said, no matter what decision she made, she would be feeling guilty by about now anyhow, so she elected to try to calm down and simply live without letting guilt consume her.

Certain things were easier said than done.

Pacing in his study, his mind had been occupied by her last visit all day. It had been a most unproductive day of work; attempting to work was in vain. All he could do was think about her, about what she said, about what she did...Then he would try to push it out of his head.

She and he needed to have words, he knew this, but he was clueless as how to approach her. Should he call her? Should he visit her? Would doing that just push her away further?

Because of these concerns, he decided he would wait. He would simply wait, though he had the suspicion that waiting would drive him mad with anticipation.

He wished things were less complicated.

"Lana, you can't tell me there isn't something wrong," Chloe told her plainly, raising her eyebrow as she picked up her messenger bag, getting ready to leave for class.

Lana pulled the covers off of her face, drowsily, the bright sun being a shock to her tired eyes. She winced and said sleepily, "nothing's wrong."

"Yeah, and that's why you're not even attempting to go to class, right?" Her roommate studied her, seeing if she could figure out what was the matter, but alas, she couldn't. "Look, Lana, as much as I wish I could get down to the bottom of this, I'm really running late. You'll call me if you need me, right?"

"Yeah," Lana mumbled, covering her head back up. The fact that she'd been lying awake in bed with her head covered up for the past thirty minutes without the inclination to go to class spoke volumes of how she felt right then.

She rolled over, then she rolled over again, unable to get comfortable, but maybe that was just her conscience causing her grief. The night before she had said things, done things, which she knew she shouldn't have done—things which could never, ever be taken back.

She lay in bed all day, and after awhile, the quiet hum of Chloe's computer lulled her to sleep, a sleep that was much needed.

When the clock struck six, she sat bolt up. It occurred to her what she had to do. With a quick shower and change, she grabbed her car keys with the intent of going to Smallville.

Lex stood, looking out the window with a large brandy in his hand. He had nothing to look forward to other than his supper, an intense feeling of loneliness taking hold of him. In that feeling of loneliness, she was brought to mind again.

He was anything but lonely when she was around. Whether it was during a good time, a bad time, or just an in between time, he could never be alone with her around.

He looked up at the stars, sentimentality flooding his thoughts—something his father would never approve of. The stars were bright and twinkling that night and it made him recall a very similar night. It wasn't a very remarkable night, but she was there and for that reason, it made it special. For the life of him, he didn't know why that night stood out so, all he did was drive her home, but it did, and the memory of it even forced a small smile to play on his lips.

The door to his study burst open.

It was her.

"Lana," said he, turning around. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," she said. She paused only for a split second, but then plunged right into what she was there to say. "About last night. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know if you could ever forgive me, but I'm asking for your forgiveness anyway. I was wrong."

That stung him, but he tried not to show it. She was less wrong than she could ever know.

"Lana, there's no need for apology," he said, turning around, away from her. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't let her see the sadness in his eyes.

"Obviously, there is, Lex. I mean, you won't even look at me," she said, walking closer to him, determined to secure his forgiveness.

He turned around again to face her and it was at that moment that they were only a few inches apart. Some might even call it too close.

If he were a lesser person, he would take her in his arms, explain to her all the ways in which she had done no wrong, and kiss her passionately. The nearness of her was unbearable torture. All he wanted to do was be with her, actually be with her.

"Lex," she said quietly, taking him away from his thoughts. She was looking at him questioningly, trying to see what he was thinking with her mind's eye.

"Lana," he said slowly. It was hard not to lose himself. "What happened last night—I could never define it as a mistake."

She held his gaze for a long time, understanding what he meant completely. It was in that instant that she wondered if she might not define the previous night's kiss as a mistake either.

_Fin_

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Author's Note: Okay, so that's the end of that story, but I'm thinking of making a sequel, and I'm definitely going to be posting more Lexana stories—with longer chapters. Thanks to everybody who read and reviewed this little fic!


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